


The Third Emotion

by elleisforlovee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Study, F/M, Gendrya - Freeform, arya & gendry - Freeform, arya x gendry - Freeform, careful fear and dead devotion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-21 12:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21075131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elleisforlovee/pseuds/elleisforlovee
Summary: The way Arya and Gendry view themselves is clearly not the way they view one another: A character study on jealousy based in the Careful Fear and Dead Devotion universe.





	1. How They See Themselves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mayb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayb/gifts).

> This is a birthday gift for the perfect thatsaysalotalotalot/mayb. Every once in awhile a writer is blessed with a reader that just *gets it* and I am constantly overwhelmed by the love and support she gives me. So thank you, Holly! You are THE SWEETEST and I don’t deserve you and I hope you enjoy this!
> 
> **This is very different from my usual writing style. I’m taking two moments in time from the Careful Fear and Dead Devotion universe (the gun range scene from chapter 5 and the barista at the cafe scene that Arya mentioned in chapter 14) and exploring them further. These are essentially deep dives into how Arya and Gendry felt in each moment. Considering the two most recent chapters, it’s a nice look back at how far they’ve come.
> 
> Commentary over.
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> x.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I highly recommend re-reading Chapter 5 (Arya and Gendry visit the gun range) of Careful Fear and Dead Devotion before diving into this. It's not entirely necessary to re-read Chapter 14 (Arya and Gendry have hot sex...again) - it just happened and this moment with the barista is only mentioned in passing.

This kept happening: Gendry’s jaw tightened and his fists clenched like he was preparing for a fight. When he realized just how upset he’d become he felt ridiculous and despite the newly introduced anxiety, he’d somehow manage to relax. Gendry would feel just as perturbed by his own behavior afterward, when he wondered what subtle behavior provoked his quiet outrage. The real question in his mind was one he’d been asking himself far too frequently lately. What gave him the right to think that he was entitled to Arya’s time and attention — at all, if not even more than anyone else? If he found her intriguing (and he did — albeit sometimes simultaneously infuriating), who was he to think he was alone in that view? Beneath it all was a deep seated insecurity; Arya was spending time with him because she needed him, but she wouldn’t need him forever.

That was why they were here, Gendry told himself. Or, at least, that was why Arya had asked that they come to the gun range. She needed assistance that he was uniquely qualified to give. Gendry thought it was almost cruel to deny her; he didn’t acknowledge, much less think of the implications of his own motives. He wanted to keep Arya safe. Arya — this woman he barely knew, someone who didn’t seem overly keen on revealing her true self, deserved his protection and he would risk his own reputation to ensure she received it.

In short:  _ he was fucked _ . 

It started with the way Arya sat in the car, her back stiff as she took in the rows of trees on base. Somewhere north, covered in snow, existed a similar landscape in a place she’d once called home. Arya seemed to enjoy how no one cared who she was and Gendry was made to smile at the thought. He enjoyed it too. Of course the somewhat remote location of the gun range aided in their need for secrecy. There was no one to stare at Arya here so Gendry had less to worry about. This was an easy place to acquire and teach Arya to use a gun. It was also an easy place to be left alone, as if the flat they shared downtown required more privacy. 

Entering, Gendry wasn’t entirely sure who he expected to see assigned to the range’s guard post. At one point he had been tasked with the position, when his superiors refused to take his age and talent seriously. Gendry wondered where he’d be now if he hadn’t taken leave. He’d done so much for his career in such a short period of time, rising in the ranks to unimaginable stations for someone of only twenty-four. Now he was risking those same privileges to show Jon Snow’s baby sister how to operate a gun. 

_ “He’s a resource. He has something I want,”  _ Arya said.

Gendry barely registered the rasp in her voice but Arya’s words could have sliced him through even without sound. It was just one of the many times Gendry had to tell himself that none of this was about him. After that his mind needed no reminders that the focus was Arya. He hadn’t been able to take his gaze off of her, and it had very little to do with wanting to keep her safe. 

It didn’t matter. Gendry felt even less confident when he saw how Jacob had picked up a similar habit. Gendry watched his old friend’s eyes float to the taper of Arya’s trim waist and when she turned around, Jacob’s glances drifted lower. He even leaned back to get a better view. Arya was pretty and fit and oddly ignorant to both facts. Gendry had noticed these superficial things immediately when they first met, when she’d nearly burned the kitchen down and seemed more embarrassed than apologetic. He’d seen her in so many similar situations since then but beneath her often unpredictable and always quirky persona was the same beautiful girl. Gendry knew it was insane for him to think that he’d be the only one to admire Arya in this way. And giving her a gun or even living with her wouldn’t deter Arya from eventually noticing.  _ You’re not special _ , Gendry heard again, over and over until he had to blink the feeling away. 

His response was an innate one. Indifference often kept the world at bay and for Gendry his sometimes aloof, even off putting personality, was delivered cruelly.  _ Jon’s baby sister _ he had called her. It tasted bitter floating off his tongue and seemed to have an effect unlike his intention. Such thoughts were meant to keep Arya in her place but instead just caused an indescribable tightening in his own chest. It all felt like a lie. But it wasn’t a lie; it was the truth. Arya was Jon Snow’s baby sister. And no matter how many times Gendry had reminded himself of this, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. If anything, he hated himself for even considering it. 

The feelings merely subsided, residing quiet in his belly until Arya was pressed against him minutes later, wiggling her hips as she concentrated on the gun in her hands. Jacob wouldn’t see this, Gendry thought, while also doing his best to remember her actions were based entirely on her determination. Yet with each fired off round, Gendry was foolish and allowed just a breath of doubt to creep in. That was what this was, wasn’t it? Arya couldn’t possibly be flirting in the way he sometimes thought she could be and the way she flung her arms around his neck when all of her ammunition was finally spent on the floor, could have happened to anyone that gave her this power. Arya didn’t even really like Gendry, she just liked the gun he gave her. It was one of the many cruel things he said to himself and soon used as motivation to fire off his own shots that pierced the target paper so precisely. He’d been doing this his whole life: being mean to himself in an attempt to clip his own wings and keep him on the ground where the world seemed to think he belonged. 

Arya was toxic, Gendry decided. It had been too long since he’d felt brave enough to think so fancifully and it wasn’t hope, it was just carelessness. Gendry knew better than to confuse the two. 

_ _

_ “Arya?” _

_ _

_ “Yeah?”  _

_ _

_ “Good job,” Gendry returned, his gaze wide as if trying to capture more of her through such heavy lidded eyes.  _

_ _

_ She nodded and parted her lips. “Thanks.”  _

_ _

_ All of her attention was lost on his mouth, no longer distracted by his stubble but by his strong jaw and the way his adam’s apple bobbed when he spoke. The same arms she’d admired earlier were still wrapped around her, this time around her waist. She held the pistol in her hand. If she shifted he would have too and his hands would slide off her back.  _

_ _

_ “Gendry?” _

_ _

_ “Yeah?” _

_ Gendry leaned in and Arya’s breath hitched. The fingers she had pressed gently to his shoulders curled ever so lightly into his skin and another wave of excitement tickled her spine. Arya blinked, keeping her eyes shut for just a moment too long. When she opened them Gendry was somehow closer, still waiting. _

Of course it didn’t help when her lips nearly brushed his own, when their breathing stilled and for a moment Gendry wondered if Arya’s mind had gone as blank as his own. Maybe if this was all a game she would have just kissed him.  _ She’s fucked up _ , Jon had told him, and maybe this was what he was referring to. Maybe this is what Arya did. Like so many women looking to escape, perhaps she buried herself in the artificial: in men — boys like Gendry who were easy prey. 

_ “I’m…” Her eyes fluttered shut as if she were fighting sleep. “I’m going to Volantis.” _

_ _

_ It was instantaneous. Gendry’s hands fell from Arya’s hips, not even bothering to rest on her thighs and instead found their home back at his side. His detachment lead to hers until it was just Arya standing before him, both of them separate - him with a half-smile and her with a gun.  _

When the fog cleared and Gendry registered their lack of contact, he realized this was difficult to believe. The only thing harder to grasp was that Arya felt something for him.  _ She wouldn’t, she couldn’t _ , he swore. But if she did, then he’d admit that maybe he did to. 

_ But she didn’t _ , Gendry convinced himself.  _ She never would. _

~!~

This kept happening: laughs stolen off Arya’s lips at even the slightest hint of competition. For what, she was unsure. After all she had pushed Gendry away and had since spent most waking moments thinking about what would have happened had she not. She thought that maybe he wanted her, or at the very least he was a man with needs so her want for him would be enough. It was clear now that Arya could have been enough, just like the barista or any of the other women in the coffeehouse could have sufficed. Now it was almost as if Gendry was working to prove this to her. She had pushed him away, essentially giving him permission to want who he wanted to fulfill his needs. 

But it had been over three months now and not once had Arya seen Gendry bring home a girl. She also failed to see any girl, or any friends for that matter, leaving Gendry’s room or spending time with him in any of their shared common spaces. Arya knew where and how Gendry spent his nights because she spent hers the same. This past week at the beach was no different, only now they shared a bed. They knew what it felt like to have warm skin brush only for muscles to tense as they danced around one another, afraid of getting too comfortable. Still, Gendry hadn’t made a pass at Arya or even hinted at that being something he was tempted to do. Even when the title Arya bestowed upon him essentially gave him permission to. Gendry was respectful —  _ too respectful _ , Arya almost thought. She craved for Gendry to push the boundaries, to let his lips fall to her neck or even his hand to her waist. She wanted to know what it felt like to be under him, over him, beside him. She wanted to feel all of him and she wanted him to feel all of her. She wanted it so badly she nearly cried out one night, finding it hard to believe her frustration wasn’t somehow contagious. 

Then again, she had pushed him away.

_ Jon’s right. You’re fucked up _ , Arya thought. She only found herself missing it — whatever this was — once she’d acknowledged its existence. She hadn’t wanted Gendry until she gave herself permission to and now that she had she couldn’t stop. It didn’t matter what her half-drunk mind thought. Her heart wanted him and her body certainly wanted him. She was a lethal combination, even more toxic without wine flooding her veins. 

Gendry was still a friend though. He was so damn handsome even walking beside him was fun, not just because he was ignorant to his good looks but because Arya could feel the envy in other women’s eyes when they saw that he was not alone. As they moved up in line Arya could sense women staring, one woman in particular smiling at Gendry even before he reached the counter. Arya noticed because for once Gendry noticed too. His usually gruff features softened and he smiled back. Arya nearly choked on the oxygen that wasn’t there, her throat getting tight as hot tears pricked at her eyes. They were just outside of Volantis in a nondescript cafe. Arya knew they’d never return; after all, Gendry had only come to Volantis because she invited him. He’d never see this girl again and yet Arya hated her. Arya hated her because she was beautiful and tall and thin and because in pushing Gendry away, Arya practically gave him permission to notice these things too. He clearly did because when they stepped up to the counter and the barista asked for more than just his drink order, Gendry complied.

“Uh, Gendry,” he said, giving her his name. 

The girl wrote it on both his paper cup and Arya’s plastic one, the sharpie’s movement existing to erase Arya. No one was behind them in line so naturally the female barista took this as permission to converse with Gendry while she made their drinks. It didn’t help that Arya felt almost small and shy standing beside a much larger Gendry. To anyone else she likely looked like a child, and even with the barista’s apron, Arya knew the rest of her body didn’t compare. Her knees were too knobby and her arms too sculpted. Her nose was long and her lips like a straight line when she found herself lost in thought. Backhanded comments once made by her mother and at one point even her sister had Arya believing that no man could ever want her. She didn’t care until now, or at least she hadn’t before Gendry. Now she wished not to care again. Her mother and sister were right. It was so unbelievably easy for a man to want someone else — anyone else — when she was the alternative. 

Arya didn’t listen to what Gendry and the barista were saying. She didn’t want to hear Gendry make this girl laugh or witness the softness in the barista’s face as she concentrated on Gendry’s lips. Arya didn’t care to watch Gendry’s gaze fall to the girl’s chest or for the barista’s smile to widen when Gendry looked away, playing coy. She texted Sansa and focused on her breathing instead.

She hadn’t even realized she had walked to the door until she heard herself being called back.

“Arya?”

She looked up to see Gendry standing beside her. He smiled at her too, though she swore it was different. Gendry was smiling at her the way Jon smiled at her, concerned for her wellbeing as if her wandering mind was a symptom of a larger, much more serious issue. 

“You okay?”

Maybe that was it. Perhaps Gendry felt bad for her. Maybe what she was witnessing was the relief of a suddenly unburdened man. Maybe she was delusional and he felt what she feared: that she was a child, nothing more than his best mate’s baby sister. Gendry was too kind to make fun of her. He was also too kind to make things awkward. Instead it was likely that they’d return home and he’d just begin to pull away. She’d see him less and soon they’d be strangers. 

The mere thought had Arya hating herself more than she ever hated the barista. And she knew it would all be easier if Gendry hated her too.  _ He could _ ; she’d certainly given him enough ammunition.  _ He should _ , Arya tried then, remembering how heartbroken she was even when it was her own hands keeping Gendry at a distance mere moments after their lips had met. She’d practically given him no other choice. Hating her was the easy option; she’d been doing it all her life. 

  
_ But he didn’t _ , Arya convinced herself.  _ He never would.  _


	2. How They See One Another

She’d never realized it before but Arya could easily admit now that she found a man driving to be a turn-on. The taut cotton curling around Gendry’s bicep held her attention, especially when his grip shifted upon the wheel, causing his muscle to flex. The veins in his forearms were just as enticing and she could have stared at them forever, nearly licking her lips, if she hadn’t found herself so suddenly enamored by his smile. His laugh was lovely too. Looking out the window to the sprawling fields of the army base, she merely added it to the list. It had been far too long since she’d allowed herself to find a man attractive and Gendry was merely something gorgeous to look at. It helped that he also had what she needed.

But  _ it didn’t mean anything _ , Arya swore. The two facts just happened to coincide but there was really no correlation. 

Then he waited for her. Arya wondered if she hadn’t moved so quickly if Gendry would have advanced to open her door. She pondered then if that was something she would have enjoyed. As they entered the gun range all she could admit was that she didn’t exactly hate it. A similar trajectory of thoughts had her unaware of the grin she wore while she pretended to study the plaques on the wall, overhearing Gendry greet his old friend. Arya merely glanced to Jacob. Like Gendry and Jon and the rest of their comrades, Jacob was well built and with a chiseled chin that Arya knew Sansa would enjoy. Nothing else about him was worth noting. She’d seen so many men in uniform that they sometimes existed only in her peripheral. 

Jacob called her intelligent but she wasn’t impressed. If anything it made her uneasy; he didn’t know her and his guess was a hollow one. For all he knew, she could have been an outright bitch. His comment was better than the alternative, one that labeled her as pretty or a similar adjective, but it still didn’t have Arya respecting him. She was still too distracted by Gendry who continued to entertain her, first with his deflection of Jacob’s sly remarks then his insistence that they get started. The hand he then placed to her back was the armor Arya craved. Jacob has begun to leer at that point and Arya was thankful for Gendry’s much larger frame because it shielded Jacob’s wandering eyes. It also had Arya’s cheeks going pink. She wasn’t concerned about the mysterious room they were entering when her mind was elsewhere, teasing itself with the thought of Gendry looking at her the same way. 

It was a game and Arya agreed to play it with herself as long as it remained silent — innocent. The world didn’t need to know she found Jon’s best mate attractive. It didn’t matter even if Jon or Gendry knew. It meant nothing other than her being a woman and him being a man. Arya was certain she was not the only girl in the world to look at Gendry and sense affection and it was forever harmless because for every time she stared at him for just a moment too long, he failed to notice. It only made Arya’s eyes adore him more. 

Even when he moved so swiftly she felt she couldn’t keep up, Arya continued to play. She found new parts of him, the broadness in his shoulders or the way he sighed causing his chest to deflate, to be amusing. Arya inspected him the way she soon inspected her gun. Touching the metal she wondered if Gendry was as sleek, as smooth. When he pressed himself against her at her own prompting, Arya was forced to stifle a laugh. She giggled like a true and proper girl. This was ridiculous and she was foolish and for once she was too entertained by her own antics to really care. 

And then his hands were elsewhere, always through fabric, though the stretch of her cotton leggings definitely allowed Arya’s mind to wander. No man had ever manipulated her body in this way; she’d never let them. But here she stood tall, extending her chest so her spine curved, assuming the position of a woman taking her training seriously. What it did instead was distract Gendry. He didn’t stare at her chest or her plump lips. Instead Gendry looked to Arya’s body as if it, not the gun she held, was the weapon. Arya wondered then if he wished to hold her too. Again she laughed. 

She could have kissed him then. Arya didn’t know what possessed her to even think of something so bold. Perhaps it was the smell of gunpowder in the air or the heat of the pistol still in her hand. She felt dizzy and wanted to be reckless but Gendry was too polite, all of him maddening, keeping Arya from doing something so stupid and brave. 

It was good that she didn’t. He likely would have laughed at her. She would have laughed at herself. This would also be their last visit to the gun range and probably Arya’s last ride in his car. She couldn’t risk it. There was too much she had yet to discover about Gendry. 

But she wanted to. And it was all she thought about on the drive home. 

~!~

He’d never realized it before but Gendry could easily admit now that Arya Stark was  _ cute _ . She wasn’t cute in a condescending way. She was cute in a way that had Gendry laughing — the best way, all of her ignorant to how her simple presence brought Gendry ease. 

As they entered the cafe she made a sarcastic comment about the dim lighting. Gendry chuckled while Arya took in their newfound surroundings and when they got in line and Arya looked to the menu, it was just another chance for Gendry to stare. He was so transfixed he wasn’t sure how he managed to keep his mouth shut. He knew he was lucky she was even speaking to him so it’d be too much to chance even a few words. She’d hate him for calling her cute. Knowing Arya she’d think he was making fun of her but he never could. With her brow furrowed in concentration and her arms crossed over her chest Gendry dismissed all other titles and focused instead on the freckles that speckled the bridge of her nose. He named them instead:  _ stunning...beautiful...pretty _ . There were so many of them he had no choice but to name one  _ cute _ . 

When it was time for them to order Gendry was mostly shocked. It wasn’t Arya’s voice calling upon him but that of the barista behind the counter. She smiled, much too widely, trying in a way that made Gendry uncomfortable. When Gendry sensed Arya looking away he looked away too. And when the barista asked for his name, he simply gave it. He was almost annoyed at her request. He’d give their orders and now she was interrupting. Gendry had better things to do, so he answered her questions, keeping the conversation light — to weather and traffic — anything that could be discussed while his exploration of Arya’s freckles continued down onto her shoulders and toward her arms. 

The baristas questioning continued. Gendry almost told her to  _ get fucked _ but his lips were still disciplined not to move, for fear of saying something equally bold to Arya. He was made to laugh as he considered the possibility of the same words. Telling Arya Stark to  _ get fucked _ would have different consequences. It wasn’t dismissal like it would have been with the barista; it was an invitation. Gendry was so in love with his own daydream he said nothing at all to either woman. 

He took a step toward Arya instead and chose to focus on their drinks being made. Only then did he notice the barista had written his name on both cups. Maybe they were still lost in pretending. Gendry didn’t mind the thought. It was comforting to think that they had just a bit more time to remain a couple. They’d done such a good job at convincing the world of their relationship it felt almost cruel to stop now. A pang of sorrow gripped Gendry’s chest. He fell in love with every shade of charcoal in Arya’s narrowed eyes until the tension subsided. 

Arya didn’t seem to pay him any attention. By the time their drinks were ready he’d taken in all there was to see. When she looked up from her phone Gendry felt the air leave his lungs. Now Arya was the one interrupting. He didn’t know what she’d found on her phone but she wore a scowl now and her hip was jutted, her foot tapping impatiently as she waited for him by the door. He couldn’t smell her anymore or see the kisses of sunlight still in her hair from their days at the beach. Quickly he paced to return to her side. He almost reached out for her arm then, causing her to twirl back into him. Instead he handed off her usual iced coffee and watched her lips curl around the straw. 

He knew those lips now. He loved what little of them he was acquainted with. If he were braver, or perhaps just dumber, he would have grabbed her then and kissed her in the middle of this random coffee shop. 

He didn’t, but god, he wanted to. And it was all he thought about on the drive home.


End file.
